


Stuck

by quirkthescribbler



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Flirting, just lots of flirting really, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6344107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quirkthescribbler/pseuds/quirkthescribbler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On one hand, being stuck in an elevator with Dan Avidan wasn't the worst way to spend your morning.  On the other hand... well, there was no downside to this, really.  Your company could have been a lot worse.  You were perfectly okay with this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck

You were running late. Of course you were.  It wouldn’t be you if you were actually on time for once.  But you really couldn’t afford to be late today - you had a meeting at 9:00 this morning, and you _needed_ to be there.  It was important.

You hustled for the elevator in your apartment complex and hit the down button three times in rapid succession.  You knew the elevator wouldn’t come any faster no matter how many times you pressed the button, but you did feel a slight rush of victory when the doors opened the third time you pushed.  You walked into the elevator and hit the main floor button as you rummaged through your purse for your phone to check the time.  The elevator slowly creaked downwards, pausing at the fourth floor to let another person on.  Your hand clasped around your phone and you looked up to offer a smile at the person walking on.  He smiled back, offered a kind “Hey,” and you did a double take.

Tall.  He was really tall.  A wild mane of curls, deep brown eyes, five o’clock shadow.  Even though he’d only said one word to you, you’d recognize that voice anywhere.  You heard his voice every night once you were off work, making crude jokes over various video games with another guy who usually goaded him on.

This was Dan.  Dan Avidan from _The_ _Game Grumps._

You whipped your head to face forward and hoped he didn’t notice your gawking.  What should you do?  Should you say something?  You really wanted to, but what the hell to say?  Compliment him on his success?  Tell him you were a fan?  Maybe not the latter - you didn’t want to come off as creepy.  What if he didn’t really want to be bothered?  It was still kind of early, after all.  It might just be better to leave him alone and privately hold on to this memory.

Just as you had decided to keep to yourself, the lights in the elevator flickered and and the whole cab ground to a screeching halt.  You grabbed onto the railing to steady yourself as Dan put his hand on the wall to do the same.  Half of the lights completely shut off and a long, annoying warning tone sounded in the elevator.  You covered your ears until the noise stopped, then the cab was silent. The two of you stood there in stunned silence for a moment before he stepped to the doors and tried to pry them open.  No luck.  He turned around to look at you.  “I think we’re stuck.”

Well wasn’t that _goddamn dandy._ Of all days, in all places, with _all people -_ “Well, shit.”

He chuckled and a blush crept into your cheeks.  You hadn’t meant to say that out loud; they weren’t exactly the most articulate first words to say to someone who was internet-famous.  He gestured to the phone box under the the elevator buttons.  “I’ll call for help?

You nodded.  “Sure.  I should probably call my boss before he has an aneurysm, anyway.”

He smiled and responded, “Cool,” and then picked up the phone.  You dialed your boss’s number in your cell phone.  He wasted no time in picking up.

“(Y/N), I really can’t afford to have you be late today.”

You sighed.  “Well, then you’re not gonna like this.”

He sighed in frustration.  “What’s your excuse today?”

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to Dan.  He was busy talking to whoever was in the lobby, so he probably wasn’t paying any attention to you, but you did not want him to hear your boss admonishing you over the phone.  “I’m stuck in an elevator,” you explained in an overly-patient tone. 

“Well, that’s a new one,” your boss muttered.

That patience was slipping.  “Listen Dick, I really am sorry.”  You weren’t really.  You just didn’t know what to say.  You were sorry for living in a building that didn’t maintenance the elevator enough?  You were sorry he was being a complete prick?  What did he want from you?  “I’ll be there as soon as I am free.”

“If you’re not here by the time your client gets here, I’m giving her to Jeff.”

_Ugh,_ Jeff, the goody-two-shoes who sucked up to Dick the minute he started working there and was now starting to slowly steal everyone’s clients.  He was the _worst_.  “Please...  Just explain the situation to her, I’m sure she’ll understand.”

“9:00 am.  Be here.  Or she won’t be your client anymore.”  And with that he hung up.

You pulled the phone away from your ear and looked at the screen like it had just personally offended you.  He had _hung up_ on you.  Could he be any more of an asshat?  The swell of anger and frustration rose up in you and for a second you let it overcome you.  “Motherfucker!” you exclaimed.

“Someone has a potty mouth.”

You whirled around.  Dan was off the phone and looking at you with a slightly pitied expression.  Embarrassment washed over you.  “Sorry,” you mumbled. 

He waved his hand in dismissal.  “Don’t be.”  Leaning against the wall, he put his hands in his pockets.  “Your boss sounds like an asshole.”

You smirked.  “More like a total dick.  Like, literally.”  He cocked a brow in question.  You tucked some hair behind your ear, preemptively giggling at the joke you hadn’t told yet.  “His name is Richard, but he goes by Dick.”

Dan laughed - that laugh that you were so familiar with - and you couldn’t help but giggle along.  “That is just _fantastic_ ,” Dan said, accentuating each word.

You shrugged, feeling slightly proud that you had managed to make him laugh.  “Well, at least he lives up to his name.”

When Dan finally calmed down, your laughter died down and you cleared your throat.  “So what did they say?  How long are we stuck?”

He shrugged.  “Don’t know yet.  The woman I talked to said she was calling the fire department, but until they get here, she doesn’t know.”

You exhaled loudly.  “Greeeeaaaaat.”

Dan pulled out his cell phone and frowned.  “Damn.  I have no bars in this fucking box.”  He ran his hand through his hair before meeting your eyes.  “I hate asking, but do you mind if I borrow your phone?”

“Oh!  Not at all, lemme just…”  You were grateful your phone hadn’t fallen into the depths of your purse.  You had it in hand quickly, punched in the PIN code to unlock it and passed it to Dan’s waiting hand.

“Thanks!” he said with an appreciative smile.  You smiled back and watched him punch the numbers and hold the phone up to his ear.  “Hey Arin -” of course he was calling Arin, he probably had some kind of shoot today “- sorry man, I gonna be a little bit late.  I’m stuck in an elevator at Kevin’s place -” oh, so Kevin lived in the same building as you?  What were the odds? “- no, he’s not with me, he was feeling sick and asked me to come by and get something for today.”  Dan looked at you and smirked.  “I do have a pretty lady with a sailor mouth stuck in here with me, though.”  He winked at you.

You stuck out your tongue in defiance but still blushed nonetheless.  Thank god the lights were lower.  He was ever the charmer you thought he might be, which was trouble for you.

In your efforts to will the redness in your face away, you missed the rest of Dan’s conversation with Arin.  “Okay man, I’ll see you whenever I get out of here… sounds good… bye.”  He hung up and returned your phone.  “Thanks again,” he said, still smiling.

“No problem!”  You looked down at your phone.  Dan had either called the Grump space or Arin directly, and that number was still in your phone.  It kind of made you excited at first, but when you quickly realized that you couldn’t do anything with it (no way in hell were you going to post it anywhere, because talk about _fucking rude,_ and it’s not like you were gonna use it yourself), you deleted the call record completely.  It would be better to just not have it at all.  You slipped your phone back in your purse.  “Was that your boss?” you asked.  You already knew the answer, but you figured playing dumb was probably the best plan for now.

“Ahhh… I guess you could say that.”  He probably considered Arin his friend more than his boss.  “But what about good ol’ Dick?” he asked with a grin, turning the topic of conversation back to you.  “Does he have a perpetual stick up his ass, or was today just a bad morning?”

You sighed, leaning against the wall directly opposite from him.  “It probably doesn’t help that I’ve been late almost every day this week.”  At this bit of information, he cocked his head to the side in confusion.  You suddenly felt like he was trying to dissect you with his eyes, trying to see what you were thinking, what you were feeling.  “What?” You asked bluntly.

He completely switched gears on you.  “You know, before we get any further into conversation - and since we might be here for a while - I feel like we should know each other’s names.”  He held his hand out to you.  “I’m Dan.”

You looked at his hand before taking it in your own.  “(Y/N).”

 A smile crept onto his lips.  “(Y/N),” he repeated your name (and lord, you could totally get used to hearing your name pass through his lips).  “So, (Y/N), back to the topic at hand - what exactly do you do?”

“I work at an HR firm,” you supplied.  “We help small companies that don’t have much in the way of human resources departments.  Sometimes it’s just because they don’t have the funds for a department with multiple people, sometimes it’s just while they’re transitioning when someone retires…” you shrugged.  “There’s always someone who needs our help.”

He nodded.  “Gotcha.”  His brow furrowed.  “Do you like it?”

You were caught off guard.  You weren’t exactly expecting the conversation to go this way.  You thought this was an exchange of pleasantries, not him actually being interested in your life.  “Um...,” you began, “I don’t hate it.”  A pause.  “I’m good at it.  And it pays the bills.”

He smiled.  “I’ve been there.  At least you don’t hate it.”

You hummed in understanding.  “So what about you?  What do you do?”

His smile grew.  “Living the dream.  I’m in two bands and I also do improv comedy.”

You smirked. He wasn’t lying, but you did wonder how many times he had rehearsed this simple explanation for people who wouldn’t understand working for a YouTube channel and being in two comedy bands.  “Wow, two bands, huh?  I bet you get all the ladies.”  His grin turned a touch smug.  Time to bring that ego down a bit.  “So tell me,” you began playfully, “what do all those ladies say when you bring them home to that cardboard box in your scenic alley?”

He gasped, faking offended, but you could see the laugh threatening to burst from his mouth.  “Ouch!” He exclaimed.  “Ride my dick a little harder, will ya?”

_Oh, if only… no, stop that._ You internally chided yourself as a giggle escaped your mouth.  He giggled as well.  God, were you _flirting?_  You felt your face heat up for what had to be the fifth time in the last ten minutes and shrugged.  “Sorry,” you apologized. “Didn’t mean to imply you weren’t doing well for yourself, but I had to tease.”  You cleared your throat.  “Two bands _and_ improv comedy?  You must be quite the artist.”

You were stroking his ego, for sure.  What he would do with it… that intrigued you.  He shook his head.  “Yes, quite the ‘artist,’” he did air quotes around that last word, “I make dick jokes for a living.  _Such art.”_

You rolled your eyes.  “Making people laugh _is_ an art,” you rebutted without thinking.  _Shit._ You hoped he didn’t catch your quick acceptance of what he said.  Someone who didn’t know who he was would have surely asked for more of an explanation.

His smile warmed you.  “Well, thank you.”

You breathed an inward sigh of relief.  He didn’t seem to notice.  _Thank god._

The elevator phone broke the comfortable silence and startled both of you.  A slightly breathless giggle from Dan, and then he picked up the phone.  “Hello?” Silence for a bit.  Then, “Uh-huh… okay… yeah…” He heaved a great sigh.  Not a good sign.  “Thanks,” then he hung up.  He turned back to you.  “Fire department is here, but they have no idea how long it’ll take to get us out.  Apparently, we’re stuck between the second and third floor and the doors aren’t lined up at all.  We could be here a while longer.”

You mirrored his earlier sigh, but still smiled.  “At least the company isn’t terrible,” you suggested.

He laughed and looked at his feet, rubbing the back of his neck.  Was he _blushing?_ “Ditto here,” he said looking back up at you.

He moved to sit down on the elevator floor against the wall that he had just been leaning on.  You didn’t want to carry on conversation looking down on him, so you looked to sit down across from him as well.  But the floor looked a little less than clean… of _all_ the days you decided to wear a white dress… You could have sat your navy blazer and protect your dress, but the cotton would probably pick up every piece of dirt and dust-

“Oh!” Dan interrupted your thoughts.  He had been watching you, and apparently saw the struggle you were faced with.  “Here, use this.”  He leaned forward and slid off his leather jacket, handing it out to you.  You suddenly felt like you were in high school and the quarterback just gave you his letterman jacket to wear to the big game. 

Butterflies running amuck in your stomach, you reached out and gingerly took the article of clothing in your hands.  “Are you sure?” you asked, voice slightly quieter than before.

He shrugged.  “Yeah,” he said like it was no big deal.  “I’ve had it for ages.  I hardly think some elevator floor lint is going to do it any harm.”

You offered a shy smile.  “Thank you.”  You put the jacket on the floor, again opposite of him, and tried as gracefully as possible to lower yourself onto it stretching your legs out in front of you.  You noticed that, compared to his own outstretched legs, your feet barely reached his knees, while his feet were a good two to three inches past your knees.  God, he was lanky.  The sleeve of the jacket laid on the floor; you picked it up and rubbed the worn leather with the pads of your fingertips.

You looked back to Dan, who was smirking and looking at you with… an emotion you couldn’t quite place.  Did he want to say something?  What was going on in that head? 

“I am going to want that back when we’re out of here, though.”

“Huh?” you dumbly replied.  He gestured to your hands, still playing with the sleeve.  You dropped it hastily, as if it were suddenly burning them.  “Oh.  Yeah, I figured.  It’s just… soft.”

Ah, yes.  This was more like how you thought this whole situation would pan out: you being painfully awkward and him charming the pants off of you.  Not that you were wearing pants.  You were wearing a dress-- _focus._

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” he teased.

“Yes, cute is _exactly_ what I was going for,” you shot back sarcastically.

His eyebrows rose as his smirk became more confident.  “Well then, what _were_ you going for?”

You opened and closed your mouth, not unlike a gaping fish.  Dammit.  He had you cornered.  The fact was, you didn’t even know.  At first you were just trying to come off as not-weird.  But now?  You’d been flirting, holding his gaze, blushing - _were_ you going for cute?  Or sexy?  You folded your arms, smirking right back at him.  “That’s… for me to know and you to… never find out.”

He laughed and shook his head.  “Fair enough.”  He stretched, raising his arms up, and your eyes widened at the strip of skin showing where his shirt rose.  You quickly looked back at his face, hoping he didn’t notice your creeping.  “So, what to do to pass the time…” he thought aloud.

“We could play I Spy.”  Your sarcasm was coming back.  “But I think our choices are rather limited,” you said while gesturing to the bland beige walls of the elevator and the dirty brown floor.

“What about Twenty Questions?” he suggested.  “Might as well get to know each other better while we’re stuck.”

“I thought that what we were doing anyway?  Getting to know each other?”

He rolled his eyes and waved his hand.  “No, but _now_ it’s a game.  No holds barred, anything is fair game, but you only get twenty.”

You stomach flipped over itself.  “So, it’s like truth or dare, but without the dare,” you clarified.

“Yeah.  You game?  Or are you chicken?”  He started flapping his arms around and making chicken noises.

You shook your head at his antics.  “Are we in fifth grade?”  You raised your hands and wiggled your fingers in a “bring it” motion.  “Try me.”

He cracked his knuckles and shook his hands out.  You folded your arms, awaiting his questions.  He looked at you, intense, then, “What’s your favorite color?”

You had to stifle a giggle.  “Purple, because it’s the marriage of red and blue, and I like those colors too.  Also, it’s the color of royalty.”  He nodded, approving of your answer.  “What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?” you asked.

“Chocolate.  When’s your birthday?”

You gave him the month and day, leaving off the year.  “What’s your favorite band?”

“Rush.  What’s your biggest pet peeve?”

“Ironically, tardiness,” you responded, which made him chuckle.  “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

“Oh, wow,” he reacted, “let me think… uuhhh, probably the time I got high and wrestled an alligator in the Everglades.”

You shook your head and held up a hand.  “Whoa, wait, _what?”_

He laughed, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.  “Yeah, I, uh, wrestled an alligator when I was high once. A picture of it exists somewhere.  Looking back on it now… not my best moment.”

You placed a hand on your stomach.  You were laughing so hard it _hurt._ It wasn’t the answer you expected, which was saying something, considering Dan talked about his life a lot on _Game Grumps_. He either never mentioned this before, or you just missed the episode where he did.  Either way… wow.

He collected himself.  “Okay, my turn.  Time to take the focus off of my stupidity.”  He grinned at you. “What’s your most embarrassing moment?”

“Oh god,” you giggled, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks again.  “Um, there was this one time, in one of my college classes, I, uh, accidentally called my professor Dad in front of the whole class.”

Now it was his turn to laugh at your expense.  “Oh my god, _stop,”_ he said through giggles.

“Swear to god, it happened.  I had to drop the class.  My classmates wouldn’t shut up about it.  I avoided that teacher until I graduated.”

His laughter finally died down, and he rubbed his eyes.  “God, that is awful and terrible but hilarious, and I’m so sorry it happened but also not.”

“Hey, fuck you!” you exclaimed playfully.  “At least I didn’t do something that could have _killed_ me!”

He held his hands up in defeat.  “Okay, okay.  Your turn.”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully.  “What position do you sleep in?”

“Anything but on my back.  I get sleep paralysis if I sleep on my back.”

Another thing you didn’t know before now.  Huh.  “No shit, really?”

“Yeah, really.  It’s _terrifying.”_

“I can imagine.”

“What do you like to do in your spare time?”

You furrowed your brow in thought.  Free time wasn’t exactly something you had a lot of.  But when you did… “I like to write.  And hang out with my friends.  I can sing some mean karaoke.”

“Can you now,” he responded with a smile.  “What do you like to write?”

You held up one finger.  “Um, I think it’s _my_ turn to ask you something?”

He opened his mouth, and then promptly closed it.  “Touché.”

“You said you were in two bands,” you stated, phrasing it to be careful it didn’t sound like a question.  Dan nodded.  You inhaled deeply, knowing you were possibly treading some thin flirty ice with this next question, but pressed on anyway.  “Would you sing something for me?”

He laughed, narrowing his eyes at you, blush tinging his cheeks.  “How do you even know that I sing?”

You shrugged, shrinking a little under his gaze but trying to play it cool.  “Call it a lucky guess.”

He shook his head.  “I haven’t even warmed up yet.”

You looked at your hands folded in your lap.  “I won’t make you, if you don’t want to.  But.  I’m sure you would sound lovely either way.”

He was silent for a moment, and for a second you thought he was going to say he’d rather not.  But then he cleared his throat, hummed a pitch, and then began singing, slower than the tempo of the original song: _“Carry on my wayward son / there’ll be peace when you are done / lay your weary head to rest / don’t you cry no more.”_

You knew you were gawking a bit, but you couldn’t help it.  Warmed up or not, his voice was as stunning as it ever was, even more so hearing it in person.  You closed your mouth and licked your lips.  “Well, I was right.  You do have a beautiful voice.”

He smiled, almost self-deprecatingly, and turned his attention back to you.  “Turn-about is fair play, you know.”  He batted his eyelashes comically.  “Will you sing for me?”

You were taken aback.  “Uh, I’m not the one in two bands,” you reminded him.  “That was my basis for asking you in the first place.”

“True, but you did just admit to ‘singing some mean karaoke,’ did you not?”

You had said that, just a few minutes before.  You sighed.  You couldn’t back down now, not after he had acquiesced to you.  You thought back to the last time you went out - when had that been?  What had you sang?  When you remembered, you trained your eyes just above his head and started to sing.  _“I understand about indecision / but I don’t care if I get behind / people livin’ in competition / all I want is to have some peace of mind…”_

You took another deep breath after you finished, and dared your eyes to meet his.  He was looking at you, studying you.  He shook his head a little and blinked twice rapidly.  “Wow.  That was… wow.”

Your stomach sank.  What did that mean?  Wow as in “wow, that was great,” or wow as in “wow, that was _really_ bad?”  You voiced your concern aloud.  “What kind of wow was that?  A good one or…”

“A good one!” He was quick to reassure you.  “It was a good wow.”  He paused.  “You have a really pretty voice.”

You really wanted to pull your knees into your chest and bury your face, but in a dress that was nearly impossible.  Instead, you covered your cheeks with your hands and looked down.  “Usually when I go to karaoke, by the time I get on stage I’ve had a few drinks and the music is loud, so.  This was nerve wracking.”

He nudged your leg with his foot.  You looked up, and his eyes were kind and inviting.  “No need to be embarrassed,” he comforted.  “You’re really good.”

Your face hurt from smiling so much.  You folded your hands in your lap again.  “It’s my turn to ask a question, right?”  He nodded.  “What’s your favorite kind of candy?”

“Skittles, and thanks to my fans, I never have to worry about buying them ever again.”  Laughter from both of you.  “What’s your dream job?”

This was a hard question to answer.  You were content with your job, but were you happy?  Very rarely.  So what _did_ you want to do?  You shrugged.  “I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he said, his voice soft.

You met his gaze.  There was that look again, the one you couldn’t quite place.  Like he was hanging on your every word.  Like he was _genuinely_ interested.  Like he was interested, not only in what you had to say, but _you._ You squashed the happy rush through your veins; even if we _was_ interested in you, you couldn’t play stupid forever.  You’d have to come clean, as a fan, and then it would be over. 

You refocused on his question.  “Um, maybe a writer?”  There was no maybe about it.  You had always wanted that, but your parents had tempered that dream long ago, telling you it was impractical and it would be hard to make a living.  You exhaled harshly.  “You asked earlier what I write?”  He cocked his head to the side, a silent plea for you to continue.  “I’ve been working on a book for five years now.”

His eyes widened.  “Wow.  That’s really impressive.”

You shook your head.  “No, it’s not.  Not really.  It’s difficult to find time to work on it anymore, between my job and actually wanting a social life.  And I can’t afford to just quit my occupation.  So it sits, still unfinished on my hard drive, probably now and forever.”

“Why are you so down on yourself?” Dan asked kindly.  “(Y/N), anything that you’ve put five years of your life into is not nothing.  You should be proud of yourself.  And what makes you think it’ll never get finished?  You’ve got so much of your life ahead of you!  There’s no deadline for achieving your dreams.”  He ran a hand through his hair.  “If you had told me ten years ago that I’d be where I am today, I would have laughed in your face and assumed you were fucking high.  I’ve been unemployed, practically homeless, depressed as hell, but it never stopped me.  And nothing should ever stop you.”

You swallowed hard to choke back the tears you felt rising in your throat.  You were _not_ going to cry.  But his little speech touched something in you.  For the first time in a long while, you _wanted_ to go home and work on your book, work through the writer’s block that had plagued you for the better part of six months.  “Thank you, Dan,” you said softly, sincerely.  “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“I think I do,” he replied, placing his hand on your shoe, the closest part of you he could reach, “because I would have liked to have heard it a few times when I thought about quitting.”

“What made you keep going when you wanted to quit?”

“I’m counting this as one of your questions,” he prodded playfully.  You shrugged and gestured for him to go on.  “I think… I think there were a lot of reasons.  I went through a lot of shit.  I felt like it couldn’t be for nothing.  My parents weren’t on board for the longest time, and as much as I loved them, I wanted to prove them wrong.  I had a lot of help, don’t get me wrong.  And it took a lot for me to accept it.  But I’m glad I did, because I wouldn’t be where I am now without it.  The help, the struggles - it all culminated to me, here, today.  And I think, somewhere, deep down, I knew that.”

You held his gaze, smiling softly.  You wanted to hug him, kiss him, something to show him how much you appreciated this whole conversation that made you rethink everything you had given up on, but settled for putting you hand on his shoe, just as he was doing with you.  “I’m glad you didn’t quit either.”

He smiled at you before inhaling deeply.  “Okay, time to lighten up this conversation,” he said, clapping his hands and shaking them out.  “What would you do if you won a million dollars?  And don’t give me any ‘I’d put it in savings’ bullshit.  You _have_ to spend it.”

You laughed.  Truth is, you _would_ have put it into savings, and what kind of contest would exist that said you couldn’t?  “If I couldn’t save it, then I’d travel the world.  I know, probably not as exciting of an answer as you thought, but there’s a lot to see out there.  And if I had the opportunity to do that, I’d snatch it up in a heartbeat.”  You held up your hands.  “Sorry, no pool full of jello for me.”

“A pool full of jello?  That’s ridiculous.”  He paused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  “Now, a pool full of pudding, on the other hand…”

A giggle escaped you.  “All right, moving on.”  You wracked your brain for a question.  “Okay.  If you were stranded on a deserted island with anyone in the world, who would you prefer to be stuck with?”

You figured he would pick Arin.  After all, Arin was his best friend, and if they were stuck together at least they could laugh about it.  But Dan was looking at you with a smirk only the devil could wear.  “Well.  I can’t say I’d mind being stranded with you.”

Your eyebrows just about disappeared into your hairline.  “Ha ha, very funny.  You’re really good at pandering to your audience.”

He leaned forward.  “Not pandering.  One hundred percent honest.”

“You barely know me, Dan.”

“I know a lot about you!  And I’d like to get to know you better.”

An eye roll from you.  “I thought that’s what we were doing?”

“I mean _outside_ of these unusual circumstances.”

You blinked.  Twice.  Was he… he couldn’t be.  This whole morning had been so surreal, you were so sure you were going to wake up any minute from this wild dream and be so disappointed going back to real life.  You dug your nails into the palm of your hand.  No, you definitely were awake.  How the hell did you get here?

“You’re really cute when you do that.”

You started.  “Do what?”

He giggled.  “You’re blushing.  Again.”

You hands instinctively flew to your face.  You heard his laugh, and even though you wanted to yell at him, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.  “Shut up,” you mumbled, hands still covering your face.  You closed your eyes, shook your head, and tried desperately to will your awkwardness away.

You could hear this laughter die down, then some shuffling, before you heard him say, “Hey,” gently.  You felt surprised as his hands came around your wrists and forced your hands away from your face, and when you opened your eyes he was a lot closer than before.  You felt the heat in your cheeks rising again, but he either didn’t notice or ignored it (probably the latter, let’s be real - he didn’t miss it before, why would he have missed it now when he was even closer to you?).  “There’s no reason to be embarrassed,” he reassured you softly.

Your breathing quickened.  He was so close to you.  You could reach out and touch him.  You could reach out and _kiss_ him.  You certainly wanted to, and that scared you just a little bit.

His hand reached up to cup your cheek.  If you thought your face was hot before, that was nothing to what it was now.  Where his hand met your skin was practically on fire; you leaned into his touch, into the heat.  You bit your bottom lip, and his eyes followed the movement.  The air buzzed with tension around you.  You knew what was about to happen, and you were going to let it (even if a small part of your brain was yelling no).  He leaned in, and you followed his lead-

The elevator lights flickered back on and the cab shakily started its descent once more.  He leaned back and removed his hand from your face, much to your disappointment.  When your eyes met again, it was his turn to blush and he turned away, running his hand through his hair yet again.  “God fucking dammit,” he muttered, half mad, half mortified.

Your next action surprised you.  You found his free hand and laced your fingers between his, squeezing in reassurance.  “No need to be embarrassed, remember?”  Damn, when had your game gotten this smooth?

He looked back at you, chuckled, and then squeezed your hand in return.  “You’re right,” he conceded, before letting go of your hand and standing up.  He offered his hands to help you up, and you gratefully took them.  Once you were on your feet, you grabbed his jacket from off the floor and beat it a few times with your hand, shaking the dirt free.  You offered it back to him.  “Thanks,” he said, donning it once more.

“No, thank you,” you responded, your adrenaline finally calming down.  You stepped up to stand right beside him and nudged him with your shoulder.  He looked down at you, traces of the flush on his face still remaining, and smiled.  The elevator came to a halt and the doors opened.

It was a mad flurry of activity in the fifteen minutes following.  The landlady was there, making sure you were both okay and apologizing over and over again.  The firemen were inspecting the elevator, and the other guy there (who you found out was an elevator technician) kept asking the both of you specific details of what had happened.  When you finished answering everyone’s questions, you pulled away, Dan still being interrogated.  What should you do?  Should you wait for him?  Would that be weird?  Maybe pretend like none of it ever happened.  You didn’t know how much longer he would be, and the more you stood around, the more awkward you felt.  So you slowly slipped out the door and started walking down the street, in the direction of your office.  You were halfway down the block when you heard your name being called behind you.

“(Y/N)!  _(Y/N)!”_ You turned, bemused as you watched Dan jog to catch up to you.  “You left without saying anything?!”

He seemed genuinely affronted.  You shrugged.  “Waiting around felt weird,” you offered lamely.

“Still, fucking rude,” he scolded you with a smile.  He took a few seconds to catch his breath before speaking again.  “Listen, I…” he trailed off, looking at his feet, searching for words.  You waited patiently.  “We didn’t get to finish our game of twenty questions.”

You giggled.  “ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?”

He met your eyes.  “Well, I was thinking that maybe we could… continue it later tonight?  If you're free?”

You gaped.  Your heart started racing.  Dan had just asked you out on a date.  Because he liked you.  Because he was interested in you.  This was the best possible way this could have gone!

But then your stomach sank.  You were a fan.  And you _still_ had yet to tell him.  You knew you had to - he deserved to know.  You closed your mouth and swallowed hard.  “Dan, I - I have to tell you something,” you began, your mouth going dry.  He furrowed his brow.  You continued on.  “I haven’t been completely honest with you.  I… I knew who you were the minute you walked on that elevator.”  You looked at your feet.  Shame washed over you.  “I love _Game Grumps,_ and Ninja Sex Party, and Starbomb, and all the work you do.  I wasn’t planning on saying anything to you before we got stuck, but when we did I didn’t know what to say, or how to bring it up, or even if I should - I didn’t want it to be more awkward than it had to be, and…” you sighed, “I’m sorry.”

There was only silence between the two of you.  You wanted to look back up at him, to read his reaction, but you felt too embarrassed now to do so.  You swallowed again, eyes still trained on your feet.  “I’m sorry, Dan.  I should go.”  You turned and started walking but only got a step and a half away before he reached out and grabbed your wrist.

Your heart leapt.  Anxious and nervous, you turned around once more to face him again, and you let your eyes take in his expression.  He seemed, confused?  Disappointed?  You couldn’t tell.  Half of you wanted to just run away as fast as you could, but the other half was too eager to hear what he had to say.  You waited.

“(Y/N), I’m not mad,” he replied softly, eyes gazing into yours.  “I feel kinda embarrassed that you already knew so much about me which made my twenty questions game kind of null and void for you-” you shook your head and tried to interrupt, but he held up a hand to silence you, “-but you fascinate to me.  You’re beautiful, and witty, and smart, and in the hour we were just trapped together you managed to keep my ego in check.”  You both laughed, and he took a step closer to you.  “You’re right; normally I wouldn’t date someone who was considered a fan.  But I think if I didn’t at least bend the rule for you… I’d regret it.”

The next few seconds seemed to move in slow motion.  Dan closed the gap between your bodies, placed a hand back on your cheek, and brought his lips to yours, finishing what he’d started in that damn elevator.

You inhaled sharply as he kissed you. _Was this really happening?!  Holy shit!!_   When your brain finally caught up to what was happening, you leaned into him, grabbing the lapels of his jacket.  His free hand found your waist while his hand on your cheek slid to cradle the back of your head and tangled itself in your hair.  His lips moved seamlessly against yours, anything but chaste, and _wow_ he was really fucking good at this.

You finally pulled away, remembering you weren’t exactly anywhere private, and looked up to him.  You blinked, looking at his lips, then slowly to his eyes.  You cleared your throat.  “Wow,” you simply said, and you couldn’t stop the smile your lips formed.

“Was that a good wow, or…”

“Good wow.  Definitely good wow.”

Dan chuckled.  “So, um.  I should probably get your phone number.”

You felt absolutely giddy.  “Yeah, okay.”  You traded phones, put your numbers in each other’s contacts, then switched back.  He had saved his number in your phone as “Danny S” with a star emoji after the S.  Just like his autograph.  Which reminded you… “Hey,” you pointed a finger at him, “I’m still waiting for my autographed copy of _Under the Covers._ ”

He laughed.  “Oh, so you’re one of the reasons my hand feels like it’s going to fall off, hmm?”

Your smile transformed into a smirk.  “Don’t pretend like you don’t love it.”

Another laugh from him, and you were giggling too.  “I’ll bring it tonight instead of flowers,” he joked.

“I’ll text you my address.  Pick me up at 7:00?”

“I’ll be there with bells on.”

You really didn’t want to leave, but you knew you still had to go to work - your boss probably wouldn’t buy that you were stuck in an elevator all day.  You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned his head and pecked you on the lips instead.  Another giggle.  “Okay, I really have to go now,” you said regretfully, “but I _will_ see you tonight.”

“Yes you will.”

You began walking away, looking over your shoulder for as long as you could, before he started walking the opposite way.  You _swore_ you could have seen him jump and click his heels in the air, though.

You had a date.  Tonight.  With Dan Avidan.  Who was gorgeous and talented and funny as hell and _liked you--_

You phone vibrated, and you checked it to see a text from your boss.  **_Client rescheduled for 1:00 this afternoon.  You got lucky._**

You smiled.  He said you were lucky.  Maybe… but you were pretty certain that Fate had your back this morning.

**Author's Note:**

> So many firsts with this fic. First time I've written fanfic in probably four years, first fic on AO3, first Grump fic, first RPF in my life EVER. Special thanks to mynameisbirdie for proofing (give her a round of applause, folks). If you're so inclined, please let me know what you thought. Thanks so much for reading!


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